Regular Chess
by Gerard Cypriako
Summary: Rigby's daughter wants to go to the Chess Festival near the park, and Rigby says he's coming. And Mordecai too. How well will they fare on a state tournament?


Lis had asked her father if he could take her to see what she could achieve at the Chess Festival. The answer she got was a rotound "Of course! Let me tell Mordecai, maybe he can also come." She was yet to show real interest in videogames, but since she once saw her father on their living room blitzing with Mordecai, she became interested in chess. Much so that Rigby payed her some classes and began to play with her regularly. He would brew a worthy opponent.

Rigby hadn't done much of competitive playing in his 38 years. Before Lis, he went to the park to outplay the nerds that challenged him and ocassionally went up against the old folks that lived in front of the chess board, but it was never too rewarding. Not as fun as playing Bullet against Mordecai when they were in their twenties, by far. That was something in which he could actually win against him, or anyone. Now, raising her eldest daughter with a passion for chess, he had vastly improved since his younger days, even if she the made the same progress in a much shorter span of time, until she got up to par with him. They even played on car rides, whenever he wasn't driving but sat on the front seat, her on the backseat, they played in their heads. Whenever Rigby wasn't in the car, Lis played with Eileen as she drove; Eileen had to learn by the smacks how to play without seeing a board, but with enough practice she managed to draw many of the games that she and Lis played in the car.

...

"Hey, Mordecai, I'm taking Lis to the chess festival this Saturday, are you down?" Rigby sent via voice message.

"Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, I am going. I'll try to see if any of the kids want to come, but they're not into that, really, none of them. You're very lucky, you know that, huh? But me, at least, you bet. Uh, see you there." Mordecai replied three hours later.

...

Mordecai wasn't as dedicated a player as Rigby was, mostly because he only had Rigby to play with. His children didn't like playing against him, and they didn't worry about improving their skills to match his, nor did they play between them. Stef liked the concept of chess enough to do many art pieces and studies about it, disregarding the actual rules and creating game texts that she called 'dances' or 'choreographies', with impossible positions and no attacks. He had other friends, other than his wife and Rigby, to practice, so every slim chance he got, he took it. It served well anyway: he wasn't the brightest at classical time control, for lack of theory, but he was a fierce Bullet player, as Lis discovered in her ugly first match against him, he wasn't rusty. That invitation from Rigby felt comfortable. They had gone a couple of times before, he knew the level they would face if they participated. They wouldn't embarrass themselves, he wanted to believe, so he did. With an hour on each clock, what could be intimidating?

...

A cloudy Saturday Georgia morning, at a large, empty wine cellar named after St. Thomas Aquinas near Mr. Maellard's park, people were in line for the XXV Chess Festival that was about to start; it was scheduled for two days, five rounds total, three Divisions of competition, a hundred players, and prizes for the first three places in each category, including the kiddies' Junior selection that would begin on Sunday.

Lis was 8 years old, and Rigby encouraged that she played as much chess as she pleased, as he believed it was doing wonders for her accelerated cognitive development.

It was going to be her first tournament. And Rigby's, and Mordecai's.

...

Right after descending from the bus, they found Mordecai by himself on the sidewalk, waiting like an idiot. He wore a green shirt that was tight for his tubbier body.

"How's it going, man?"

"Hey."

"So the monsters didn't come?"

"No, and I told them that Lis would be here." Mordecai informed, slightly gutted. "Hi, Lis!" he smiled as he offered her a high five.

"Hi, Mordecai!"

"We shall get going, then?" Rigby pressured.

"Of course".

Walking in, the wine cellar, very spacious and generously showered by pale sunlight, was set up for the event with multiple tables aligned in three rows -each of them numbered and only a few with a chess board on top, as the players had to bring their own material, which also included a clock; one was much longer than the others, with seventeen tables. At the back of the room were stapled the names registered for competition in three sheets of paper to a stack of old wine barrels, which delicately covered all four walls of the place as elegant props while the wine was stored somewhere else.

...

"So, Second Division or ass?" the raccoon teased the bluejay.

"You got it, dude."

"Good, 'cause I'm going on Third Division". Rigby revealed in the most middle aged of tones.

Lis gasped. Mordecai whooped and chanted "Ass, ass, ass!"

"Daddy, why are you going on Third Division when you can take on the Second Division?"

"I'm not expecting much from this tournament. If everything's good, I'll get a three out of five."

"Yeah, on Second Division!" Mordecai interjected.

"I'm just keeping it low-key and modest."

"That's not modesty, that's selling yourself short."

"Yeah, daddy." Lis agreed, and she reached for the raccoon's hand. "Didn't you want a challenge?" she added, moments later.

"I came to see you play, that's what I care about" he said, caressing her hair.

At the very moment of paying for Rigby and Mordecai's inscriptions, the bluejay handed fifty dollars instead of a hundred.

"You're going on Third, too?" the raccoon sneered.

"I guess I wanted a more safe result".

"Mordecai, you too? You got scared?"

"No, queen, I just wanted to be in Rigby's category. Maybe I get to play him."

"The important thing is that I'm proud that you're going on First Division." Lis' inscription cost more than theirs, but that didn't bother Rigby.

"Yeah, you're very brave. You're a real one."

"And no matter the outcome, you're going to do great".

...

"Third division players, roll call is about to start!"

Rigby turned to Lis and knelt, grabbing one of her shoulders:

"If you finish first, wait in one of the chairs for guests; if I finish first, I'll be there too. Don't go out."

"Got it."

"See you there." he last said, affectionately. He stood up and pointed at the table she'd be playing at, Table 6.

"Good luck, Lis." Mordecai told her, before following Rigby to the group that was being roll-called.

...

Rigby sat in Table 14, with the white pieces, and Mordecai in Table 12, with the black pieces; Mordecai's opponent was already waiting for him and Rigby's arrived with a borrowed chess clock. It was until the latter took out a pen and a sheet of paper that Rigby realized he hadn't brought anything to annotate the move list, which he regretted immediately. He wondered if Mordecai hadn't felt the same. For him, at least, that was one blow to his nerves. Lis wouldn't have problems concentrating if she didn't annotate, but he would definitely get her something to preserve the evidence of her matches. As soon as he finished with...his opponent mumbled a dry "good morning" and right after, when the day marked 10:00 in the morning and the coordinator announced the beginning of the first round, they shook hands and Rigby pressed on the clock to start.


End file.
